


A Drop of Fire - Part I

by flamethrower



Series: Re-Entry: Journey of the Whills [14]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, GFY, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are days that can bring about events that will change everything about the future.</p><p>What no one mentions is that those days start out just like any other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drop of Fire - Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Beta beta beta credit! Merry Amelie, WritestuffLee, and C...who I can't recall what she'd like to be credited under. Thanks, guys!

Republic Date 5201: 2/12th

Jedi Temple, Coruscant

 

“It’s empathic resonance, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan looked up from his desk, not surprised to find Siri Tachi standing before him.  He hadn’t sensed anyone’s approach, but when the door had opened, it was not difficult to discern what had happened without lifting his eyes from his work.

“Yes,” he said, in answer to her question.  “Good job figuring out the Force-cloak, by the way.”

Siri nodded.  “Thanks, old man.  How’s your swirly precognition bit going?”

“It’s…going,” Obi-Wan said, mouth twisting in distaste.  For a moment, Siri had parallel scars on her cheeks; then they were gone again, but her hair was shifting lengths in the meantime.  Damn prescience. 

Siri grinned and lifted an object out of her cloak, one whose presence he hadn’t sensed at all.  “Dammit, Siri!” Obi-Wan swore, hitting the security lock on the door via a control hidden underneath his desk.

“Relax,” she said, unconcernedly placing Darth Zannah’s Sith holocron on his desktop.  “It’s a Shadow thing, remember?  I have to be able to transport things like this around without anyone noticing.  It’s good practice, and she was helping.”

“She was?”  Obi-Wan gave the holocron a suspicious look.  “That doesn’t sound like her.”

“No, she doesn’t really like helping me, but I think she admires talent,” Siri explained.  If she sounded just a bit smug, Obi-Wan was going to allow it.  She’d earned the right to feel proud of her accomplishment.  “Zannah said that if I brought her to you, she’d explain to me _why_ a holocron can have empathic resonance.  Not even our holocrons can do that.”

“To me, huh?” Obi-Wan shook his head.  “Why?”

Siri shrugged.  “She likes you.  Like, way likes you, as in: ‘Would probably tie you to her bed if she were still alive’ like-likes you.”

“That’s part of what tipped you off, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan asked.  Easier that than dwelling on the fact that a thousand-year-old dead Sith projection wanted to bed him.

“Yep.”  Siri sat down in one of the chairs, swinging her legs up to let her boot heels rest on the arm of the other.  “I think maybe I’d know any fake holocron from the real thing, now, but I guess I won’t be able to test that until someone steals another Sith holocron from Sidious.”

“Mm,” he replied, noncommittal.  Obi-Wan didn’t want to dwell on Sidious right then, either.  Even thinking about the Sith Lord made possibilities twist and writhe in his mind’s eye, and most of the outcomes were not pleasant.  “Bant would know a real Sith holocron from a fake, every time.”

“Empathic resonance,” Siri repeated, nodding.  “I mean, the fake one has it, too, but after I dwelled on it, it didn’t feel right.”

“That’s because it’s artificial, an actual mechanical process of the holocron.”

“So, why not just have Bant check out any holocron we bring in?” Siri asked.  “If she’d know, and you and I weren’t available, it’d sure save everyone some time and trouble.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  “Can you really see Bant Eerin doing Shadow work, Siri?”

Siri made a face.  “On second thought, no.  I like her sane and not-broken.”

Obi-Wan nodded and let his fingers brush the correct sigils on the holocron.  When the holographic image finished forming, he greeted her.  “Hello, Zannah.”

The projection smirked at them both.  “So, you made it safely, after all.  And you,” Zannah continued, addressing Obi-Wan.  “Sidious never mentioned that his favorite conquest was also a Councilor.”

“It’s sort of a new position,” Obi-Wan said.  Darth Zannah was being extremely forthcoming, which probably meant that Siri was right.  “I believe you were going to explain something to Padawan Tachi.”

Zannah inclined her head, the image glitching once in the middle of the motion.  “I did tell her that she had earned the right.  I have not met one like her in many centuries.  You know how your Jedi holocrons are made, yes?” Zannah asked, looking at Siri.

Siri nodded.  “Yeah.  A Master builds and programs a holocron, and the constant contact during the construction process means that the Masters imprint a bit of themselves into the matrix.  It’s why they can interact so well with anyone using the holocron.”

“I am not an imprint on a matrix.  When a Sith builds a holocron, we give the holocron a part of our own essence,” Zannah said.  Her voice was neither cold nor harsh, but Obi-Wan was still reminded of icy winds blowing through a chasm.  “The strongest of us do not only leave parts of ourselves in our holocrons, but we link the devices to our tombs.  I believe you are educated enough to understand the implications.”

Siri paled.  “But—but that means you are _actually her.”_

The ancient Sith smiled again, a biting expression just shy of a leer.  “So surprised, you are.  All these weeks of speaking with me, and still you underestimate the brilliance of the Sith.”  She tilted her head, her mocking expression fading. 

“Your young one is in danger,” Zannah said, just as Obi-Wan felt a dangerous stirring in the Force.

“Rillian,” he breathed, and bolted from the office. 

 

*          *          *          *

 

Rillian returned to her home, and knew the moment she crossed the threshold that no one was in residence.  Master Obi-Wan had a Council workday planned; R2-D2 was working with Garen, untangling that new Sienar fighter’s innards; Anakin was poking around in the ship Rillian had been gifted by the Chiss, making sure there were no other bits of Chiss hyperspace information hidden in the main system.

Rillian still wasn’t certain what to think about the Chiss commander granting her the stolen ship.  It felt…weird, like he was rewarding Rillian personally, not making polite overtures towards the Republic and Jedi at large.  Master Obi-Wan agreed, suggesting that the Chiss Rillian and Xilly had defeated had probably been a pain in the commander’s backside.

The balcony door was still partly open, just as she had left it that morning so that Teya could have the run of the Wilderness garden.  There was no sign of the feline, either, which probably boded ill for the Temple’s small but tenacious rodent population.

In the kitchen, she retrieved juice from the coldstore and poured a glass, wrinkling her nose over the scent.    It hadn’t smelled off when she’d drunk some that morning.  It still tasted fine, but there was a lingering sourness in the air that Rillian didn’t care for at all.

The sour scent grew stronger, even after she finished her drink and put the rest of the juice away.  Instinct made Rillian spin in place, her hands already reaching for the twin lightsabers tucked into her bandolier.

There were _things_ in her home!

There were two—humanoid males, cloaked, holding ignited, red-bladed lightsabers.  One further whiff and Rillian knew it was they who were the bearers of the sour stench. 

Rillian ignited her blades, crying a challenge as she stepped into the first man’s swing.  [How dare you?] she howled in outrage.  This was her home, Anakin’s sanctuary, her Masters’ refuge.  This was a place of healing, and these stinking intruders did _not_ belong.

 _I’m coming, Rillian,_ Master Obi-Wan sent, while the Sith-spawn pressed his advantage.  Their blades crossed, and he bore down with his lightsaber, trying to use height and strength to overpower her.

 _Give’em hell, Rill!_ Anakin crowed.  _I’m on my way!_   Rillian acknowledged it all, spoken in the time it took her to blink once, and shoved the Sith-spawn back.

“Little furball’s stronger than she looks,” the first spawn said, a wide, cruel smile on his face.

Rillian huffed at his words, and then used a trick her Masters had taught her, distracting the intruder with one blade while severing his lightsaber hilt with the second. 

The Sith-spawn shouted and fell back, swearing in a language she didn’t know as he clutched his wounded hand.  Rillian turned to engage the second man and was shocked into temporary stillness when he flung a handful of powder into her face.  Rillian blinked the residue from her eyes and charged forward, her nose burning when the dust entered her sinuses.

The interloper snarled at her and spun out of the reach of her blades.  Rillian attempted to follow, but to her intense surprise, dropped to her knees instead.  [What—!]  The word froze on her lips as her face went numb.

“Took fucking long enough,” the dust-bearer said, his snarl becoming a sneer.  “Down you go, little Wookiee.”

Rillian tried to respond, and could not.  Her lightsabers fell from hands that would no longer obey her, their light disappearing as the hilts hit the carpet with muted thumps.  She fell onto her side, breathing hard but unable to speak or blink or even roar in outrage at what the Sith-spawn had done.  This was Shillanis, and it was every bit as awful and frustrating as she’d believed it would be.

The one with the wounded hand came forward to kick her.  Rillian shoved him back with the Force, which made the dust-bearer laugh.

“She’s smart, this one.  Knows she can still fight back,” he said.  “But everyone’s got limits, little Wookiee.”

Invisible tendrils wrapped her throat as the dust-bearer clenched his hand into a fist.  Rillian fought the telekinetic hold, keeping him from cutting off her oxygen supply. 

The dust-bearer was strong in the Force, even if his strength reeked of Darkness, but Rillian was being taught by the best.  She called upon the Force and swatted, sending the dust-bearer flying back across the main room to land with a thump against the couch.  The tendrils eased and then came back with a vengeance as he climbed to his feet, growling.

This time it was the injured one who laughed, calling his companion’s lightsaber to his intact hand.  “Let’s get this done.  One is still better than none, and Lord Sidious will—”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off.  Master Obi-Wan entered their quarters, slamming into the Sith-spawn with his entire body in a rush of Force-enhanced speed.  The injured man went flying, hitting the rock wall of the indoor pool with several sharp cracks that spoke of breaking bones. 

The other one darted into her line of vision.  _Master!_ Rillian yelled the warning.

Obi-Wan turned in place, blade up in guard position, only to fall into the same trap that Rillian had—but instead of a mere handful, the dust-bearer threw an entire _bag_ of Shillanis into Master Obi-Wan’s face.  It turned his face, hair, and the top of his dark tunics white.  Iridescent sparkles in the dust caught and refracted the light. 

Not just Shillanis, Rillian guessed.  None of Obi-Wan’s memories had shown that the Sith powder had such a quality.

Obi-Wan blinked dust out of his eyes as his tongue darted out to taste what was on his lips.  “You hid it in the spice.  Huh.  Legal blend, too.  Good way to get it through customs without notice.”

The dust-bearer smiled.  “And when you fall, I’ll take your head to Lord Sidious.  I want my place back, _Jedi._ ”

“You break into this Temple, steal into my home, assault my mate’s student, and think that I will do something so simple as to fall before you?”  Obi-Wan glared at the Sith, his eyes flashing. 

The surge of fury was there and gone, so _fast_!  It was still enough to stun Rillian, such was the strength of it.  It was protective anger: for the Jedi in the Temple that the Sith-spawn had endangered, and for Rillian, whom he loved like a daughter. 

 _Oh,_ Rillian thought, startled.  She hadn’t realized the depth of her other Master’s feelings for her.  Then she allowed duty to take over.  _Master Obi-Wan, we should keep at least one of them intact._

 _Hmm.  It’ll have to be this one, then.  The other one is a bit damaged._  

The dust-bearer, meanwhile, was realizing that the Shillanis was having no effect on the Jedi Master he faced.  His smile vanishing, the Sith-spawn called his stolen lightsaber back to his hand.  He ignited the red blade and charged, murderous intent in every line of his body and killing rage in his eyes.

Obi-Wan let him come, standing as still as a tree in a calm forest.  At the last possible second, he flung himself to one side, bringing his lightsaber hilt up and down to crash into the back of the dust-bearer’s head.  Once again, Obi-Wan moved so fast that Rillian tracked the motions less with her eyes than with the Force.  The speed was awe-inspiring, and Rillian wanted like nothing else but to be able to move like that one day.

 The Sith-spawn crumpled to the ground like a sack of tubers.  Rillian sensed that he still lived, but the dust-bearer didn’t move again.

“Are you all right, Rillian?” Obi-Wan asked, kneeling down beside her.  He put his hands on her chest, right palm over her heart.  The sheer amount of dust covering his face and beard made the pink of his lips stand out like the painted mouth on a theatre actor’s mask.

_I’m okay.  Useless, but I’ll live._

Master Obi-Wan gave her a stern, serious look.  “You are _not_ useless.  You did very well, and didn’t lose your head when the Shillanis hit, which is more than I can say for my first dose.”

 _Okay,_ Rillian agreed.  There were things that she could have done better, but she accepted that he was right.  She had not panicked at all, and that pleased her.

“I can’t do anything for the paralysis, but I’m not leaving you on the floor in the meantime.”  With that, he scooped her up and carried her to the couch, staggering once, just before laying her down so gently that she sank into the cushions instead of falling against them. 

Rillian sent him a curious/worried query.  He had burned through the Shillanis (the Reconciliation Council was going to be cross) so Master Obi-Wan shouldn’t have stumbled at _all._

“It’s…it’s all right,” he told her, which was an outright lie if Rillian had ever heard one.  “Fine, it will be,” he corrected, sensing the nature of her thoughts.  Then he pulled out his commlink, and input a code with fingers that were starting to shake.

“Obi-Wan?” she heard Master Mace’s voice say.  “What happened?”

“Intruding…Sith-spawn, Rillian’s dubbed them,” Obi-Wan said, and then drew in a ragged breath.  “Bio-hazard lockdown on our quarters.  There’s Shillanis-laced spice all over the damn place.”

“Obi-Wan?  Obi-Wan!” Mace repeated, when Obi-Wan did nothing more than bend over, hands on his knees, and take in raspy gulps of air.

 _Master!_ Rillian shouted.  She might not have panicked about the Sith, but she was going to panic for certain if one of her Masters was dying while she was helpless to do anything about it!

“Not…dying,” Obi-Wan grumbled, but he didn’t sound very good.  “Medical…might be a good idea,” he said into the comm.

“Acknowledged,” Master Mace said in a terse voice.  Obi-Wan turned the device off and then promptly dropped it, swearing under his breath.

 _I’m close to Mace’s comm, and you sound like shit,_ Anakin sent, sounding angry.  _I’ve got Healers inbound with a breather.  How bad are you hit_?

 _Hit?_ Rillian repeated in confusion.

 _He’s allergic to spice, Rill, remember?_  Anakin answered.   _It’s his second hit this month, too, thanks to that pharmaceutical company not labeling their meds right.  Master?_

Master Obi-Wan took a few deep, halting breaths.  _Medical might want to bundle up quickly,_ he admitted.  He sat down on the floor next to the couch, and buried his face in the fur of Rillian’s arm.  She supposed her fur made a very good filter for the cloud of dust still hanging in the air. 

 _What can I do?_ she asked, wanting to help.  Even with the extra memories in her head, Rillian didn’t know much about coping with allergies.

 _Talk to me,_ Obi-Wan sent back.  His voice was clear and loud, but not…not right.  Not full of the usual sense of command and surety that she was used to.  _Gibberish.  Song lyrics.  Traditional Wookiee recipes.  I don’t care.  I just need something to concentrate on._

 _Okay._   Rillian thought about it.  Every song lyric and recipe quite promptly flew out of her head at his request, so that wouldn’t do.  _I gave Master Qui-Gon a new nickname._

 _Oh?_  

_I called him kerri chewgra ji._

_Wise tree…_ Obi-Wan mulled.  _Did you tell him the rest of it?_

 _No,_ Rillian said.  _Names should have their meaning learned gradually._

 _He’s going to be honored, when he figures out the rest,_ Obi-Wan said.

 _Can_ you _figure it out?_ Rillian asked.  She knew he could, but this was about being a noisy point of interest, not about learning.

_Honored…beloved…wise tree…_

_That’s the first part,_ Rillian supplied helpfully.

He grumbled at her.  _I am having trouble breathing; my brain works just fine._

 _Prove it,_ Rillian shot back, a disrespect she would never pay him if the situation were normal.

_A wise tree whose reach is greater than the stars._

Rillian would have sucked in a startled breath, had her body allowed her the luxury of responding.  It wasn’t the correct translation—wise being whose reach was greater than the trees was proper.  _I like yours better,_ she said.

_What did you write for the poem that Master Kita-Tai asked for, Rillian?_

_You’ve read it,_ Rillian replied, feeling the familiar squirm of discomfort in her midsection.  She was no poet.

_Read it, yes.  Tell me anyway._

Rillian wanted to sigh.  He was abusing the situation, she just knew it, but she repeated the short verse.

 

_His shuffling gait,_

_determined,_

_records the same_

_pitch of ground_.

 

 _I like it,_ Master Obi-Wan said.  _It’s very euphemistic._

 _We’re not talking sex euphemistic, are we?_ Rillian asked, horrified.  She wasn’t certain why she’d written down the words in the first place, but sex had _nothing_ to do with it.  She hoped.

_What?  No!  Euphemisms are for more than copulating.  There are…electronic devices that…that work that way._

_Master?_   Rillian mentally nudged him. 

His hand clamped down on her wrist, just shy of pain.  “I am trying not to pass out,” he said aloud. 

 _Almost there, Master,_ Anakin sent.  _One minute before everyone’s bio suits are on.  How much Shillanis are we talking about, here?_

 _A lot,_ Rillian answered, when Master Obi-Wan was silent.  _Probably enough to paralyze half of this tower’s residents._  It hadn’t taken more than a finger’s dusting to drop a Jedi Master. 

 _Master Obi-Wan?_   She was worried that he had lost consciousness, after all, when he began to speak out loud again.

“There is no time.  There is no when,” he said.  Obi-Wan was repeating it both ways, letting the words saturate the training bond.  It felt like his words were echoing in her head.

 _Well, that’s not creepy or anything,_ Anakin said, sounding a bit bewildered. 

Obi-Wan went on as if he hadn’t heard anything.  “There is no will be, and there is no ever was.”

 _Master?_ Rillian sent, feeling lost.  She didn’t think he was fully conscious any longer, which meant he was channeling something—or someone.

“Time is a concept, an abstraction without linear progression.  It’s less a series of events and more a jumble of everything, and all of it is happening at once.  When we speak of time, remember:  It is not a system of measurement, but…”   The last line was delivered in a raspy mumble, “A simple matter of being equipped to interpret a single event in the incomprehensible realm of the infinite.”

 _This is why you don’t write poetry while you’re drunk, Master,_ Anakin sent, attempting levity just as the doors open and the first suit-wrapped Jedi came into the room.

“S’not poetry,” Obi-Wan murmured into Rillian’s fur, his shoulders slumping as the first gloved Healer touched his arm.  They pulled him away from Rillian, who could only watch him go before she was swarmed by her own gaggle of Healers.

 _What is it, then?_ she asked, ignoring the Healers who were asking her to talk to them.  Anakin would come along and tell them they were being ridiculous soon enough.

 _Remembering,_ Obi-Wan answered, and then she lost their mental contact as the investigative hordes descended.

 _Anakin?_   Rillian tried to identify him among the melee.

 _I’m here._   Then she placed Anakin in the room by his voice.  “Man, this wall sure came in handy.  I think Obi-Wan may have broken the asshole’s spine.”

“Saves us the trouble of having to confine him,” Jude Rozess answered him.  “If he lives.”

“Oh, for goodness sakes— _she_ _can’t answer you, idiots_ ,” Jale Terza said, and Rillian found the bio-suited senior Healer shoving her way to Rillian’s couch-side.  “Get ready to brush off as much of this spice blend as possible into sample bags,” the woman instructed the others.  “We need all that you can retrieve.”

“What’s the point?” one of the other Healers asked.  “If it’s on her, it’s contaminated, anyway.”

“Yes, but at least we can identify what that contaminant is,” Healer Terza snapped back.  “That is less true for other things in this room.  Merk, go and tell the team surrounding my favorite patient that they need to collect as much of the dust as possible before they toss him into a bacta tank.”

Rillian heard Master Mace a moment later.  “I think we missed the party, Even.”

“It looks as if one of them tried to imbed their assailant into the wall,” the Councilor replied in his rough voice.

“Well, there’s already a commlink stuck in the wall,” Anakin replied.  “What’s a Sith or three?”

Rillian couldn’t laugh out loud, so she settled for a great deal of mentally broadcasted mirth.

“Well, at least the Padawans approve,” Master Piell said, sounding amused.

“I am going to find out how these two fuckers slipped into the Temple under my watch.  Then I am going to skin the guilty parties alive,” Knight Rozess was saying.

“Jude, no.  You can’t skin them without express permission, and I’m not granting it,” Master Mace told her.

The Healers set up a stretcher, and used the Force to move Rillian from the couch to the stable, floating platform.  “Are you comfortable, Padawan?” one of the Healers asked.

 _No, I’m paralyzed,_ she thought, irritated, and Anakin started snickering. 

“Rillian is not a natural sender unless she has a pre-existing bond,” Anakin told the nosy Healer.  “When you put her in the ward, stick a ’Net display up over the bed.  That way she doesn’t have to stare at a blank ceiling for the next eight hours.”

 _Thanks, Skywalker_ , Rillian sent, surprised by the gesture.  It sounded better than attempting to sleep when she could not even close her eyes properly.

 _Nobody likes a cranky Wookiee in the Healers’ Ward, Rill,_ Anakin replied, feeling very much like a watchful, teasing nestmate at that moment. 

Everyone’s voices faded as Rillian was removed from her quarters.  She wanted to sigh in dismay and could not.  Even though she had not failed, Rillian still felt eons of Wookiee pride weighing down on her in that moment, insisting to her that it was a sign of defeat and dishonor to be removed from a battlefield in a stretcher.

In the Healers’ Ward, they finished stripping spice and Shillanis samples from her fur, and then cleaned her off in such a way that Rillian wanted to escape.  They used water and pressure and there were hands all over her, and Rillian didn’t have the voice to tell them that they were being far too personal with her body.  Then the indignity was over, and the Healers left her in peace with a screen over the bed, just as Anakin had suggested.

Light sensitivity morphed into seeing rainbow halos around objects, but otherwise, her first exposure to Shillanis _and_ spice was not awful.  The spice gave her a pleasant, mellow buzz, as she had always read it would.   It probably helped to make an intolerable situation tolerable, especially as time crawled onward and her nose itched like it was trying to remove itself from her face.

Anakin came by soon after Rillian had finished watching a very stupid program about variances on Life Day practices.  _How is Master Obi-Wan?_ she asked, and Anakin kindly reached out and scratched her nose.  Oh, blessed relief.

“Well, there was a lot more Shillanis on him than there was on you, and apparently getting it off took a lot of conniving on the Healers’ parts,” Anakin said, a faint smile appearing on his face. 

One thing about all of this was tickling Rillian’s memory, so she decided to ask.  _I don’t understand.  I thought they told us in xenobiology that humanoids couldn’t be allergic to spice._

“Oh, yeah, that.  I got in trouble for arguing about that in class,” Anakin said, smile morphing into a scowl.  “If you want to be technical and specific about it, it’s less an allergy and more an oversensitivity, but it’s easier to make yourself understood if you say ‘allergic to spice’ instead of ‘sensitive to phenolpolyeptirinestac.”

 _That’s a mouthful,_ Rillian thought, amused.  _So, oversensitivity means…_

“That any dose of spice or phenol is an automatic overdose,” Anakin said.  “He misses out on the euphoric effects or mental elevation that most of us get from spice.  Instead, Obi-Wan gets semi-delusional and incoherent, like with that whacked-out speech about time, followed by withdrawal.”

Rillian stared at Anakin, nonplussed.  She’d heard the tales, seen glimpses of Obi-Wan’s memories of Corellia, and still she was horrified by what she was hearing.  Spice withdrawal was something only serious addicts eating the nasty blends had to deal with.  _Just one dose?_

“Even a gram,” Anakin said, shrugging.  “Most of the time it’s no big deal.  I mean, even people who haul spice around for a living will back off if you say you’ve got an allergy.  It’s Inner Rim folk who either pretend they’ve never heard of the allergy, or act like it doesn’t exist.”

_Like that pharmaceutical group you mentioned?_

“Right.”  Anakin grinned.  “Abella is talking about how she’s always wanted to own a pharmaceutical company of her very own.”

Her mind settled by Anakin’s lack of further concern about Master Obi-Wan’s health, Rillian immediately refocused on the situation that had left both her and Obi-Wan stuck in the Ward in the first place.  _What about the Sith-spawn?_ she asked.  Her instincts were preying on her; she wanted to scent and hunt and find out where the Sith-spawn had entered the Temple.  Instead, she was going to spend the next several hours doing nothing more constructive than staring at bad HoloNet programming.

“We don’t know how they got in yet, but we’re pretty sure now that it’s how they killed Master Sifo-Dyas,” Anakin said, his eyes narrowing.  “He had bad joint pain from being in a really awful ship crash when he was younger, and used pure ryll to help treat the pain.  Master Mace and Master Micah think that someone slipped Shillanis into one of his ryll deliveries, and then killed Sifo-Dyas when the Shillanis paralyzed him.”

 _Before he had a chance to realize he wasn’t helpless,_ Rillian realized, saddened.  She’d liked old Master Sifo-Dyas, with his grand tales and wry, self-deprecating ways.

Anakin patted her hand, awkwardly, but the contact was welcome and Rillian made sure he knew it.  “I’m going to check on Obi-Wan, and then I’m off to help Jude.  I don’t have your nose, but a whole bunch of us are volunteering to scour the Temple from top to bottom, looking for ways in that the surveys have missed.”

 _Go do what you must,_ Rillian sent in agreement.  _I’ll be fine here.  I believe I shall nap,_ she decided. 

Anakin nodded.  “See you soon, Rill,” he said, and disappeared from her limited view.

 

*          *          *          *

 

“I have good news and bad news for you.”  Mace paused.  “Force, but that stuff reeks.”

Obi-Wan managed a smile that was probably more of a grimace.  “I did warn you.”  Bacta was still streaming down his body, dripping off of his hair, and clogging up his sinuses with its special odor.  However, he would put up with the stench, and gladly, when it dealt with the worst of spice withdrawal symptoms in less than twenty-six hours. 

Obi-Wan looked at his left arm—his bonding tattoo kept fading in and out of existence.  He was either still hallucinating, or still going through the same round of prescience.  Hard to tell, really.

“The good news is that we found where your two guests entered the Temple,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan lifted his head in surprise.  “We think it may be where Jil-Hyra brought in the explosives used in the crèche bombing, as well.”

“Where?” Obi-Wan asked, accepting a white, absorbent robe from one of Bella’s conscripted assistant Padawans.  The room was almost uncomfortably warm, but being robed was more dignified than sitting around in nothing but a pair of undershorts.

“There’s a tunnel in the old levels.  It used to have a duracrete cap, but something dug its way in from the other side.  The tunnel has since been re-sealed, and there are teams combing through the old construction, making sure that nothing else has been excavated.”  Mace crossed his arms.  “Even Piell is requesting his own rock wall.  I blame you entirely.”

Obi-Wan refused to be sorry.  “Did the acolyte live?”

“No.”  Mace shook his head.  “The other Sith acolyte also managed to suicide while in custody.  Poison locked away in one of his teeth,” he explained.

“Classic,” Obi-Wan said.  “We got nothing from him?”

“Just a lot of foul language and vows of vengeance,” Mace replied, looking frustrated.  “However, part of the good news is that we got a number of successful Shillanis samples, thanks to you and Rillian volunteering yourselves.”

Now _that_ was excellent news.  “Has anyone tried to duplicate it?”

Mace was already shaking his head.  “Saesee is trying, but no luck so far.  He does say that it looks to be possible.”

Obi-Wan used his robe sleeve to attempt to remove bacta from his hair.  He was quite ready for a shower.  “So, what’s the bad news?”

Mace crossed his arms.  “We believe that our intruding Sith friends were a distraction.”

“Oh?”  Obi-Wan stood up carefully, pleased when his legs held his weight without threatening to dump him on his ass.  “What else has…” he trailed off as realization struck.  Mace had no reason to be pestering him in the Ward otherwise.  “Qui-Gon?”

“The transport that picked him up from Tholate space was a day overdue for comm check,” Mace said.  “Before we could investigate, our new Chiss friend gave us a call.”

 _Damn._   Obi-Wan swallowed.  The bond was unchanged, still shielded.  That meant that Qui-Gon was either fine, or unconscious and unable to alter the shielding.  “And?”

“The commander says he was shadow-escorting Qui-Gon’s transport out of Chiss space.  It seems not everyone in his Ascendancy is pleased with Tholatin’s new status,” Mace said. 

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan muttered.

“They discovered the ship floating in space with half her hulls blown out.  The crew is dead; your Lifemate is missing.  I assume he’s still alive?”

“He’s not dead, no,” Obi-Wan said.  He would have noticed that, unconscious or not.  He gave the Lifebond three sharp mental prods, their pre-arranged signal for emergency contact, and received no response.  “What’s my travel time?”

“Five days,” Mace answered with a grim smile.  “I didn’t think you would be willing to stay here and let the rest of us ride off to the rescue.”

“It’s also about practicality, Mace,” Obi-Wan said, trying not to sound defensive.  He would go, still-spice addled, with or without anyone’s approval, but he wasn’t going to be foolish about it, either.  “Give me a starting point, and I can find him, even if no one else can.” 

He gave the Councilor a second look; _there_ was the damned prescience.  Mace stood regal, bearing a goatee; Mace, face contorted in rage; Mace standing with Adi; Mace standing alone, heavily scarred.

Mace raised an eyebrow at the scrutiny.  “Prescience?”

“Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head.  “Nothing that ultimately means anything, Mace.”  Then he turned his focus inwards.  _Padawans?_

 _Here, Master,_ Anakin replied, his mental voice deeper and serious, as it now always was during important moments.

 _Master Obi-Wan, are we going?_ Rillian asked.

They already knew, then.  That would save time.  _Damn right we are.  Anakin, find a ship that any of the three of us could pilot._

 _Yessir,_ Anakin said.  _I’ll be prepping Rill’s Hyperion clone, since the nav has been reprogrammed.  She needs a name, Rill,_ he added, and then dropped out of the link.

_Rillian, get the three of us packed.  We travel light, but prepare for an extended journey._

_Yes, Master,_ Rillian answered.  _A full kit from the Healers, too?_

 _I’m already here; I’ll do that,_ Obi-Wan told her.  _Move quickly,_ he said, and returned his attention to Mace.  “Anything else?”

“Quinlan Vos and Padawan Secura will be meeting you,” Mace said.  “He thinks Jenna Zan Arbor may be involved.”

Obi-Wan felt a stir of irritation and suppressed it; they had suspected Zan Arbor might seek revenge, so this was not much of a surprise.  “All right,” he said, and walked to the doorway.  Bella was going to clear him for travel, whether she liked it or not.

“One more thing.”

Obi-Wan turned; Mace was regarding him with concern.  “What is it?”

“The Shillanis, Obi-Wan.  You nullified its effects, and we both know there’s only one way to do that,” Mace said.

Obi-Wan frowned.  “You’re right.  I didn’t even think about it.  I simply did what needed to be done.”

“Why?” Mace wanted to know.

Obi-Wan let loose an amused huff of air.  “Because that’s what I was _trained_ to do.  Does the Reconciliation Council want my hide?”

Mace shook his head.  “No, actually.  The matter was already discussed with Padawan Raallandirr.  She stated that she felt no threat from you, despite your method of coping with the Shillanis.  As far as we’re all concerned, you’re still in the clear.  But be careful, Obi-Wan,” he said, his gaze serious.  “That is one habit that you may want to lose.”

Obi-Wan was going to have to give the matter some thought, because in that moment he wasn’t certain if that was an advantage he was willing to give up. 

Force, no wonder Zannah goaded him.  “We will all be careful,” he said instead.

Mace nodded.  “May the Force be with you.”

 


End file.
